


Not the Type

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Sports, Cheerleaders, F/M, bring it on movie au, lieutenant duckling AU, loose movie au that is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: Emma Swan first notices him in the stands at the Friday night football game. She can tell right away Killian Jones is not the football type. Then again, she's not the cheerleader type either, but here she is with pom poms. Life hasn't ever gone the way Emma planned. Lately, that's actually been a good thing. Maybe Killian Jones is a good thing, too.Loosely - VERY loosely - based on the movie Bring it On. For the Captain Swan Movie Marathon event on Tumblr.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 68
Kudos: 84
Collections: Captain Swan Movie Marathon





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> * This fic idea has been on my drafts list for a really long time. I was a high school cheerleader myself, and even did a brief stint coaching, so I have some major issues with the movie Bring it On. I mean, I like it as a rom com, don't get me wrong, but as a sports movie, not so much. They portray the cheerleaders as athletes, I will at least give them that, but there are just so many things they get wrong, it drives me nuts. Anyways, that's why you shouldn't expect this fic to follow the movie. I did, however, put in the most well known pop-culture references from Bring it On. Killian makes a great Cliff, but Emma isn't really Torrance at all. She's more like Eliza Dushku's character in the movie. (But don't worry, Killian is NOT her brother! That would be gross.)  
> * Massive thanks to the mods of the Captain Swan Movie Marathon event as well as all of the other writers. The discord chats have been a blast - especially when you all helped me brainstorm a title for this. Thanks to @hookedonapirate for being an awesome beta and to @rumdrum91 for giving the first chapter a quick once over even while you are insanely busy.  
> * This fic is almost finished and will be updated every Saturday.  
> * Come find me on tumblr (same url) to see the picset I made for this and hear more of my ramblings about Bring it On's portrayal of cheerleading. Cause I know you all want to hear THAT. lol

_Bounce left, bounce right. Two hip shakes. Roger rabbit, Roger Rabbit. Bobby Brown, Bobby Brown. Cabbage patch. Electric slide. Repeat._

Emma repeated the steps to the dance like a mantra in her head. A cheerleader was supposed to smile all the time, but she couldn’t conjure one up as she bounced through the choreography that dated back to 1989. Okay, maybe they threw in the cabbage patch in 1994, but still. This shit was old.

The band sped up as they played through another round of “Louie, Louie,” and the cheerleading squad was racing through the dance like a tape on fast forward. The band thought it was hilarious and never ceased to tire of the schtick.

Emma was doing what felt like her hundredth Roger Rabbit when she caught sight of him. A large book half covered his face, so she could still see his arched brow and smirk. She held his gaze as she went into her Bobby Browns, and he lowered his book, still staring openly, a crooked grin filling his face. Was he mocking her? She stared him down as she did the cabbage patch, and his eyes widened. She tilted her chin as she went into the electric slide, and his tongue swiped his lips. 

“Louie, Louie” finally, mercifully, ended. Emma whipped her ponytail as she broke the guy’s stare. She bounced up and down, waving her pom poms and shouting “Go Knights!” Mary Margaret had finally gotten her to stop rolling her eyes. 

“Well look at you, Emma Swan,” Ruby said as they all turned to watch the game and cheer the offense.

“What?” Emma stood at attention, just like all the other girls, her poms on her hips. 

“Don’t play dumb, Emma,” Ashley quipped on her other side. “We’re better at it than you.”

“That guy,” Ruby explained. “You were having cheer sex with him.”

“Cheer sex? Seriously?”

Emma tossed her poms down to the ground and tightened her ponytail angrily. She _hated_ football season.

🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Emma whirled around to find herself face to face with the guy she was definitely _not_ having cheer sex with. Whatever the hell that was. She rolled her eyes. Mary Margaret couldn’t do anything about it during half time.

“Just because I’m baring my midriff and my skirt barely covers my hips doesn’t give you permission to ogle me.”

His blue eyes widened. _Very blue, actually. No! It didn’t matter if his eyes were pretty; he was a creep._

“You misunderstand me, love.”

“Not your love.” _Though he did have a hot accent. What? No! Nothing about him was hot._

He sighed. “Look, I couldn’t help watching you. All the other girls had fake smiles, but you . . . “ he shrugged. “You looked like you hated being here as much as I do.”

Emma blinked in surprise, and her gaze darted to the hardback copy of _The Two Towers_ clutched in his hand. She also took in his slightly disheveled hair, slender build, and Pink Floyd t-shirt. Clearly not the football type. 

The students in line behind them for the concession stand grumbled for them to move, so they both shuffled forward. 

Emma smiled apologetically and extended her hand. “Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones.”

“So, what are doing here, hipster?”

He chuckled and ducked his head. He looked a lot more bashful than he had in the stands. 

“Granny insisted I put down my guitar, stop singing depressing songs, and get my ass here to support my foster sister. Her words exactly.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “You’re Ruby’s new foster brother!”

He leaned closer and winked. “Guilty as charged.”

🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈

“Cheer sex, Ruby!” Emma snapped as she returned from the concession stand with her bottle of water and bag of pretzels. She lifted the items up on auto-pilot for Coach Ava’s approval, which she received. The Coach insisted on healthy snacks during games and practice. Some of the girls chafed at the rule, but Emma had no problem with it. The last thing she wanted was someone hurling from the top of a pyramid because they had just wolfed down chili cheese fries or something. 

“What?” Ruby asked before taking a bite of the apple in her hand. 

“Cheer sex,” Emma repeated, “with your _foster brother_? Ew!”

Ruby rolled her eyes as she chewed and swallowed. “Let me emphasize the _foster_ part. If you wanna bang Killian, I won’t stop you.”

Emma let out a groan of frustration as several of the other girls giggled. “I’m not banging anyone.”

“Exactly! And why is that, Emma?”

“Leave her alone,” Mary Margaret admonished. “Just banging someone isn’t what she needs.”

Emma appreciated Mary Margaret’s positivity - usually - but she wasn’t in the mood for another speech on true love. “I’d actually prefer a complete change of topic.”

“Good,” the girls jumped at the sound of Coach Ava’s voice behind them, “because you only have five minutes left of half time to finish those snacks. Which is kind of hard to do when you’re yapping.”

“Okay, coach,” the girls grumbled good-naturedly. They all loved Ava, and not just because she was Mary Margaret’s mom. She really cared about all of them and was both tough and fair as a coach. Better even than some of the gymnastics coaches Emma had had. Emma had never planned on being a cheerleader, but Emma was used to things in her life not going according to plan. That was usually for the worst, but lately she had to admit it had been for the better. She hadn’t planned on being adopted by the Nolans, either, and that had been the best thing to ever happen to her. When the social worker brought her to her new foster mother, Ruth, and foster brother, David, she had fully expected it to be nothing more than yet another brief stay. She hadn’t expected to be loved. 

She hadn’t expected to love in return. 

Emma tossed her empty pretzel bag into the trash can near the stadium stairs. She took another swig of her water, then tossed the bottle into her cheer bag that was monogrammed with her name and a megaphone. It was cheesy and matched the bags of all the other girls. 

She hadn’t expected to like this group of girls, either. Hadn’t expected to find a group of _athletes,_ but she did. Yes, since age thirteen, life had been surprising her rather than throwing her curveballs. Maybe thirteen was actually her lucky number. Now she was seventeen and had an actual family in addition to fifteen sisters.

With pom poms. 

🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈 🏈

Emma crammed her first and second period books into her locker, grabbed the stuff she needed for third, then slammed the door shut. She took off down the hall at almost a sprint. TV and movies were shit in portraying high school. Kids hanging out by their lockers chatting at any and all times of the day. Complete and utter lies. Storybrooke High gave kids five minutes - _five minutes!_ \- to get to each class. There were some breaks where she didn’t have time to stop at her locker, but her American History book weighed about three tons and she refused to lug it around all day. She didn’t care if it was completely out of her way. She was chucking that book, damn it, before she threw her back out. Three weeks into the year, and she had it timed down to the second. 

She did _not_ have time to be slammed into and knocked to her rear end. “Hey!” she shouted at the jerk who’d plowed into her. 

A hand reached down and hauled her to her feet. “Apologies lass.”

She knew that accent before she looked into those blue eyes. She suddenly realized she was still clutching Killian’s hand in hers. She yanked her hand away. 

“Yeah, well watch where you’re going next time.”

He grinned in a way that was three-fourths charming and one-fourth roguish. “A pleasure as always, Swan.”

Then the ridiculous boy bowed over her hand and _kissed_ it! She rolled her eyes. He arched his brow. 

“Advanced Trigonometry?”

He was offering her a pad of graph paper that had her homework scrawled all over it. She snatched it from him and stuffed it into her bag. It was then she realized the zipper was broken. _Great. Just great._

“Why are you so interested in my class schedule?”

He shrugged as he rocked back on his heels. “I’m impressed is all.”

She lifted one shoulder, then dropped it as she attempted to balance her busted backpack in both arms. “My mom insisted on one advanced course this year, and math’s the one subject I don’t suck at.”

He tilted his head. “Intriguing.”

“Why?” she snapped. “Because you assume cheerleaders are moronic sluts?” The bell rang, and she dropped her head back with a groan. “Great! Now you’ve made me late.”

She shouldered past him, and her hackles raised when she heard his low chuckle. He laid a hand on her arm before she could move away and lowered his head to her ear. 

“Most guys would find your attitude off-putting, but I love a challenge.”

“Sure you do,” she muttered as she stalked away. 

At practice that afternoon, she was informing Ruby that her brother was an absolute pain in the ass. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's another football game, but Emma's not looking for Killian in the stands. Nope, not at all . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * The first chapter was really just an intro, now we really get into the plot and Emma and Killian getting to know each other. This chapter also includes two more iconic parts from the movie, though remember, this fic isn't going to follow the movie plot.  
> * Thanks again to the mods of the Captain Swan Movie Marathon for putting this event together! Also thanks to @hookedonapirate for her beta skills.  
> * For my non-American readers, I hope I explained everything in this chapter, especially bust-throughs, adequately enough. I don't know that I've ever seen that aspect of cheerleading portrayed in a movie before (though I could be wrong). But if you search google images for bust-throughs, you'll see pictures of what I'm talking about.

At the next game, he wasn’t in the stands. Not that Emma was looking or anything. And she wasn’t disappointed. Nope, not at all. 

“Earth to Emma!”

She jumped and turned to Ruby, who was squatting with her hands cupped in front of her. Ashley was across from the brunette, doing the same. 

“We haven’t got all day,” Ruby grumbled. 

“Sorry,” Emma told them hurriedly. She braced her hands on their shoulders as Ariel, her spotter, came behind her and grasped her waist. Emma jumped up into the girls’ cupped hands. They dipped with her, bending their knees together, then popped her up to chin level, with a light assist from Ariel. Behind them, another stunt group lifted Jasmine up above their heads. Down below, Mary Margaret and another girl pulled on the ropes to hoist the giant bust-through to an upright position. The bust-through they had spent hours making last Sunday afternoon, only for it to get obliterated in mere minutes. Making the bust-throughs for the game and the posters to hang around the school would take away from much needed practice time, so they came in on Sundays to do it instead. Emma had chafed at it initially - they all did, really - but the girls ended up having a blast every week. It still wasn’t fair that they were taken away from their athletic training to do 1950s crap for the boys, but oh well. 

When the bust-through post was close enough, Emma grabbed it. Farther up, Jasmine held it as well. On the other side of the bust-through, the rest of the squad was doing the same. The stadium speakers suddenly thrummed with Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” and the fans surged to their feet. Below Emma, the football team thundered past with a feral yell before tearing through the yards of poster paper. Ariel braced her thighs and Emma tightened her core so she wouldn’t fall. Every damn time, she felt her life flash before her eyes. The only comfort came in her absolute trust that Ariel would catch her. She discarded the post, and behind her Ariel counted out loud, “1, 2, 3, hup!”

Ruby and Ashley bent their knees, then pushed through with their arms to pop Emma up into the air. She kept her core tight, her knees together, toes pointed, and her arms out in the shape of a “T” so the three girls could catch her neatly. It was a simple stunt, actually, and not as high or dangerous as most Emma was used to. They just didn’t usually do stunts on hard packed turf with twenty large high school boys rushing past. 

Half the girls ran around as fast as possible to pick up all the bits of poster paper, while the other half hoisted up the pvc pipes they used for the posts and rolled up the ropes that held the bust-through. Those had to be reused every time. 

Arms loaded with crumpled up poster paper that smelled of glue and tempera paint, Emma raced off the field as fast as she could before the opposing team came running out not caring if they bowled over a five foot five, ninety pound cheerleader. 

She  _ really  _ hated football season. 

The girls shoved the remains of the bust-through into the trash, then slid the pvc pipes and ropes underneath the bleachers to put in the cheer supply closet later. Then they lined up on the sidelines for the kickoff, their poms shaking in the air.

“Gooooooo Knights!”

Like every other game, the marching band followed the kick off with the school fight song, and Emma was busy high kicking when she saw him. Killian stood out like a sore thumb - the only one in the student section not chanting, “fight, fight, fight!” Instead, he was lounging back against the bleacher behind him, glancing around at his fellow students with a mocking expression upon his face. Emma felt her lips curl up into a smile - probably the first time she didn’t have to force one during this exhausting Rockette’s-style dance. Her legs burned as usual when the song finally ended, but it didn’t bother her quite as much when Killian caught her eye and winked. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her smile from growing and spun away from him with a tilt to her chin. 

“Push em back!” Mary Margaret, their captain, yelled. “Ready? Go!”

The girls all chanted together, going through the motions of the cheer. “Push em back, push em back, defense push em waaaaay back!” They went through it twice before efficiently moving into their stunt groups. Ruby and Ashley tossed Emma into the air this time, with Ariel giving her an extra boost. In the air, Emma twisted her body in a layout, the rush of it sending adrenaline through her veins. It only lasted a moment before her stunt group caught her in their arms, but Emma would never tire of the thrill that the brief moment of weightlessness brought her. 

Emma popped out of the dismount with her arms above her head. “Go Knights!” 

She never had to fake enthusiasm when she got to do a stunt like that. Her eyes caught Killian’s again. Both eyebrows arched, he managed a half bow from his seat in the stands, both arms outstretched dramatically. Emma shook her head with laughter, though his obvious admiration of her skills sent a thrill through her. Nevertheless, she rolled her eyes at him. 

Just then, Emma heard the loud grunts and collisions of a particularly nasty tackle. The crowd gasped, and next to Emma, Mary Margaret dropped her pom poms.

“David!” she cried out, then her hands flew to her mouth. 

Emma let out a cry too when she saw her brother lying motionless on the field. Instinctively, she reached for his girlfriend, and Mary Margaret threaded her arm through hers. The cheerleaders all took a knee, but Emma and Mary Margaret never let go of each other. 

“Get up, get up,” Emma whispered. 

David started moving his legs, and the girls let out a sigh of relief. He was able to get up without the aid of the coaches hovering over him, and the crowd cheered. He had a slight limp at first, but his leg must have just been stiff because his stride soon became normal. He took off his helmet and grinned and waved at the crowd. The cheerleaders stood again and waved their poms above their heads in celebration. Next to Emma, Mary Margaret was still shaking a little bit. 

“He scared me to death,” she told Emma.

“I know,” Emma replied, and a shiver went down her spine as she thought about how bad it could have been. David was always pointing out that she and Mary Margaret could fall out of a stunt and break their necks just as easily as he could, but it felt different. Football injuries just felt way more common, and then there were all those retired pros with neurological problems. David said that playing at the college level was unlikely since Storybrooke High was just a double A team, and she was secretly glad. The less he smashed his brains in, the better. 

David was the big brother she never knew she needed, accepting her, teasing her, and irritatingly trying to protect her from the moment her prickly thirteen year old self had arrived in his home. 

He had also sat on the sidelines at how many gymnastics classes? Classes she had dreamed of taking since she watched Gabby Douglas win the Olympic gold medal on TV when she was eight years old. Then, when Emma was twelve, Simone Biles became her hero. A former foster kid winning Olympic gold? Emma didn’t think such a thing was possible, but Biles gave her hope. Then Ruth Nolan made that hope reality. 

“Whatever your dreams are, Emma,” she had told her, “I’ll invest in them. It’s what a mother does.”

Emma was behind, of course. She’d had school friends as she grew up who taught her the basics on the playground - handstands, cartwheels, back walkovers. She’d even learned to do back handsprings in the backyard of one of her foster homes. Still, her goal to make the high school gymnastics team seemed almost impossible. Then she read about Misty Copeland, the star principal dancer for the American Ballet Theater who didn’t start dancing until . . . thirteen. Surely, if she could defy the common thought that girls had to start ballet at three or four to achieve greatness, then Emma could defy the same thought in gymnastics. And with the support of Ruth and David, she had. She’d made the gymnastics team as a freshman at Storybrooke High. 

Then, after one amazing season on the team, they had received the devastating news: the state of Maine was cutting high school gymnastics completely. Ignorant politicians spun it, of course. There would still be a state meet each year where gymnasts would represent their schools in individual competition. It would just be privatized, the politicians explained, saving taxpayers thousands of dollars. Privatized was a fancy way of saying that only gymnasts in clubs at private gyms could compete. Clubs that cost an extravagant amount of money. Money that Ruth Nolan simply didn’t have. 

And that was how Emma Swan ended up a cheerleader. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You and Mary Margaret still wanna stay over at my house?” Ruby asked after the game as she slung her cheer bag over one shoulder. 

“Of course we do,” Mary Margaret replied. “Right Emma?”

“Yeah sure,” Emma said vaguely as she pulled the rubber band out of her hair and shook out the loose waves. Cheer ponytails were  _ so  _ tight they gave her a headache. Of course, as a gymnast, she’d had to put her hair in an equally tight, equally hairsprayed bun. She rubbed at her scalp. Maybe she should chop her hair off like Mary Margaret. No, scratch that, she didn’t have the flawless skin and cherubic face to pull that off like MM did. 

“Are you sure?” Ruby asked with a glint in her eyes. “Killian lives there now, you know.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m familiar with what a foster brother is. Of course I know he lives with you.”

“Just wanted to be sure you could handle the sexual tension,” Ruby said, bumping Emma teasingly with her hip as they headed to the parking lot.

“For the last time, there is no sexual tension between me and Killian!”

“You did have cheer sex with him.”

“Mary Margaret! I thought you didn’t buy into that crap!”

“Did I just say that out loud?” MM’s face was crimson. 

Ruby threw her head back and guffawed. “Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Emma.”

“God, if you two don’t stop . . . I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

“You’ll what?”

Emma grasped for a good threat. “Smother you with a pom pom!” she finally blurted out, waving the one she still grasped in her hand in Ruby’s face. 

MM literally collapsed against the side of Ruby’s car in hysterics, and even Emma lost it. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all simultaneously exhausted and electrified from the game. Once they calmed down, they tossed their stuff in Ruby’s trunk. There was only a pleasant chill to the air this early in the season, so Ruby put the top of her convertible down, and Emma leaned contentedly against the headrest as the wind rushed past. The football team had won tonight’s game, and there was a spirit of celebration in the air as Ruby drove through the parking lot and out onto the street in front of Storybrooke High. When kids and even adults noticed a red convertible with three cheerleaders in red and white, they raised their fists in the air and shouted, “Go knights!”

“You know, it would mean a lot more if they were cheering for  _ our _ victory instead of someone else’s,” Ruby commented dryly as they cruised through Storybrook’s only light after it turned green.

Mary Margaret leaned between them from the backseat, which surprised Emma, since the brunette was usually all “safety first.” 

“Well, that’s all gonna change come December 5th ladies when we-”

Ruby lifted one fist in the air as she joined Mary Margaret in her cry of, “TAKE STATE!!!”

“Now wait a second, slow down,” Emma cautioned. “We have to place at regionals first.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Please, Emma, Storybrooke has dominated regionals since we were all in kindergarten.”

“Well, if there’s one thing gymnastics has taught me, it’s to not get cocky, so don’t jinx it, okay?”

“We also need to have confidence,” Mary Margaret added, giving Emma’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Confidence, not pride. Now sit back and put on your damn seat belt.”

“Intense much, Emma?”

Ruby tilted her chin and practically howled at the moon. “Someone needs to. GET. LAID.”

Emma lunged over and clapped her hand over Ruby’s mouth before she could add anything further. “Don’t. Say it.”

“God, Emma, she’s driving!”

Ruby pinched Emma in the side with her free hand, sending the blonde jerking back to the passenger’s side. “Why Emma, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian Jones knew that Emma Swan was just down the hall from his bedroom -  _ keenly  _ aware of it. Just as he had been aware of her since the night he’d first seen her. He had been completely honest when he told her that it was her expression and not her body that had drawn him in. If he’d wanted to ogle enticing figures in short skirts, he would have just been staring at the entire squad since the game started. But it was Emma Swan’s clearly irritated, flashing green eyes that had managed to tear his gaze away from Tolkien. He wasn’t sure what she had against the marching band’s rendition of “Louie, Louie,” but the hatred clearly ran deep.

He clenched his jaw as laughter floated down the hall from Ruby’s room, and he adjusted the knobs on his guitar effects pedal to distract him. Granny had been abundantly clear that he was to stay far away from Ruby’s friends. 

He was a little offended at Granny’s lecture, to be honest. As if he were a dog in heat unable to ignore the scent of females. 

Killian strummed his electric, then adjusted the feedback again. Halfway through Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy,” he’d pushed thoughts of Emma Swan far away.

Until he glanced up in the middle of a frankly ridiculous, out of control guitar solo to find her standing there in his doorway, slack-jawed and staring. She was tantalizing in a teeny, tiny pair of shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top, her blonde hair piled up on her head in a messy bun. He managed not to drop his guitar and flashed her a lopsided grin as he continued to play. 

“Emma!”

The girl in question jumped a foot in the air, clutching her hands that held a purple toothbrush to her chest. “Shit, Ruby!”

“What are you doing?” Killian’s foster sibling asked from the hallway.

“I, uh . . . went to brush my teeth.”

“Um, the bathroom is  _ that  _ way.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” Emma mumbled. 

Killian winked at her before she scurried away, still strumming. So maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt the delicious tension between them. This was a pleasant turn of events . . . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma grumbled at herself under her breath as she squirted toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She couldn’t believe Killian had caught her staring - practically  _ drooling  _ \- over him. The way he’d smirked at her as he continued to play left no question that he knew she was checking him out. She was pretty sure Ruby knew it, too. Yet in her defense, how was a girl supposed to ignore an attractive guy when he was playing the guitar? 

Emma started to brush, a little too vigorously at first. She was irritated with herself, but she didn’t need to scrub her gums raw, so she slowed down. She almost jumped out of her skin when Killian came through the open bathroom door behind her, but she calmed herself before he noticed. He winked at her as he retrieved his toothbrush from the cup by the sink and got some toothpaste. Emma arched a brow at him as she continued to brush. Somehow, the idiot managed to smile at her charmingly even as he worked the toothbrush around his mouth. She rolled her eyes and looked at her reflection instead, but that didn’t work either. His gaze only found her reflection in the mirror, and he waggled his eyebrows at her. She almost choked on her toothpaste.

Then he spit, rinsed, and ran his hand across his mouth in exaggerated, satisfied fashion. “Ahh,” he said, then bowed to her and left. 

Emma scowled at her own reflection in the mirror. Stupid attractive eyebrows. No one was supposed to look that good brushing his teeth. She finished brushing, rinsed, then headed back down the hall to Ruby’s room. Her friends stopped chatting the minute she walked in. 

“What?”

Ruby arched a brow. “Please, Emma. I caught you drooling over Killian when you were supposed to be brushing your teeth.”

Mary Margaret pointed an accusing finger. “And you’re smiling.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she tossed her toothbrush into her overnight bag. “So I’m smiling. So what?”

“So, you don’t normally walk around smiling. It’s not the natural resting state of your face.”

Emma laughed as she plopped down on Ruby’s bed with her friends and grabbed some potato chips. “The natural resting state of my face?”

“Yeah,” Ruby explained. “Take MM here. She naturally smiles. Just walks around smiling. You - not so much.”

“Okay, fine,” Emma muttered around a chip, “so I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“Very.”

Emma lifted a hand the minute she saw Mary Margaret’s face. “I think he’s cute. That’s it. I’m not saying I like him or that I want to date him, just that objectively I can admit he’s cute.”

“Puppies are cute, Emma,” Mary Margaret pointed out, “that guy in there is not just cute.”

“How is he your foster brother anyway, Ruby?” Emma asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Oh, that. Well, Granny knew his mom from way back. They used to come visit every summer when we were kids. Anyways, when Killian’s dad left, he asked if she’d take him.”

Emma blinked. “Wait, his dad just dumped him here? And where’s his mom?”

“She died of cancer a few years back.” Ruby shrugged. “And I don’t know, his dad wanted to go back to England or something. Killian gets pissed whenever I bring him up, so I’m not really sure. He has a brother too, but Liam’s in the Navy.”

Emma fell silent as she grabbed more chips. As she munched, she tried to imagine being sent to a new town, new school so your dad could . . . what? Live his own life with no responsibilities? It was pretty screwed up. 

The sound of an electric guitar filled the apartment above Granny’s diner once again, and Ruby let out a huff of frustration as she stomped to her door. 

“Kill, seriously? Can you stop with the guitar already?”

“I live here too,” Killian shouted back.

“Both of you shut up so I can sleep,” Granny yelled at them both. 

Mary Margaret and Emma caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing. Ruby groaned then slammed the door shut. 

“I’m serious, Emma. If he starts dating you, maybe he won’t be around here so much, driving me insane!”

“That’s not very romantic, Rubes,” MM scolded.

“And remember, Emma Swan doesn’t date.”

“Emma Swan needs to stop referring to herself in the third person.”

Emma didn’t have her poms anymore, so she threw a pillow at Ruby’s head instead. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma gets to know Killian a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to the mods of the Captain Swan Movie Marathon event and to my beta @hookedonapirate!

One of the benefits of living over a diner was free food. Granny insisted on making Killian and Ruby a healthy lunch to take to school, and she made them sit down to a healthy family dinner when their schedules allowed, but at breakfast she was far too busy in the diner. That was fine with Killian because he loved the diner’s breakfast menu best of all. And lucky for him, the diner served breakfast until noon on Saturdays because, like most teenagers, he rarely rolled out of bed before eleven on weekends. 

Today, he headed downstairs around eleven thirty and grinned when he saw his foster sister and her friends at a booth perusing the menu. Mary Margaret sat next to Ruby, leaving a space free next to Emma. Perfect.

He slid in next to her with what he hoped was a charming smile on his face. “Good morning, love.”

Emma scowled openly at him, which perversely only made him grin wider. “What are you doing here?

“Getting breakfast, obviously. Besides, I live here. Remember?”

Emma set her menu down, her hands splayed across the laminated cardboard. “I meant at this particular spot? There’s nowhere else you can sit?”

“Come on Emma,” Mary Margaret admonished, “don’t make him sit alone.”

He gave Emma his best pout. “Yeah, don’t make a guy eat breakfast alone.”

Emma rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine.”

The waitress came and took their orders, and Ruby told her their friends' meals were on the house too. She nodded, used to Ruby and now Killian eating as they pleased from the diner. As they waited for their food, the four of them chatted about school, and Emma started to relax next to him. She answered his questions, and even smiled.

“You know,” he told the girls, “I’m going to be working here starting next week. Maybe I can get you free food more often.”

“You better not,” Ruby admonished. “Granny is very specific - overnight guests only.”

“Don’t tell me if you were waitressing, you wouldn’t get your friends free fries or something.”

“Actually, she doesn’t,” Emma spoke up. “It’s a bummer, really.”

Killian’s eyes widened. “You waitress? I thought-”

“Just not during cheer season,” Ruby interrupted.

“So, like football season?” All three girls groaned and gave him death glares. “What did I say?”

“We do more than cheer for the football players,” Mary Margaret told him.

“When football season ends,” Emma explained, “competition season starts for us. Our first invitational is . . . what Rubes, December 6th?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Regionals are usually in late January,” Emma replied, “state is in February, and then if we rank high enough, we get to go to nationals in March.”

Killian frowned. “That’s a long season. When exactly do you waitress, Rubes?”

Ruby laughed, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “Just the summer, really. Though we have practice and cheer camp, there’s no school, so I can at least help Granny a little. It’s tourist season, so every little bit helps.”

The waitress came and slid their plates in front of them. Killian was thoughtful for a minute as he started on his eggs. 

“Wow,” he finally muttered, “I had no idea cheerleading was a year round sport.”

“Sport.,” Emma gaped at him. “You called it a sport.”

“Course, isn’t it?” he asked with a shrug as he took a sip of orange juice. The girls were smiling at him as if he’d just rescued them from a fiery dragon. 

“You’ve impressed me, Kil,” Ruby said. 

“It took us months to get David to wrap his brain around that one,” said Mary Margeret.

Emma clapped her hand on Killian’s shoulder. “You know, Jones, you might be okay.”

“Thanks.” He winked at Emma, and she yanked her hand away. Great. One step forward, two steps back.

“Hey!”

Killian turned to see David Nolan, star of the Storybrooke High football team, standing beside their booth. All broad shoulders, nicely trimmed blonde hair, and varsity letter jacket. Killian just stopped himself from flinching.

“Hey sweetie,” Mary Margaret beamed at her boyfriend as he leaned down and gave her a kiss.

“Can I join you?” 

“Sure!” the girls all said enthusiastically, and Mary Margaret scooted closer to Ruby to make room for him. Killian felt himself stiffen involuntarily as David looked straight at him. Then his jaw almost fell open with shock when the football player extended his hand.

“I’m David, Emma’s brother.”

“Oh,” Killian said nervously, taking the offered hand, “I guess I should have known. You two look alike.”

The Nolan siblings spoke simultaneously.

“Oh no, I’m adopted.”

“We get that all the time.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” Killian stammered.

“Don’t apologize,” David told him, then shook a finger at his sister, “and you - quit jumping to point out you’re adopted. It doesn’t matter. You're my sister, and there  _ is  _ a resemblance.”

There really was. They had the same shade of hair, the same barely visible dusting of freckles, and the same chin. When Emma beamed happily at her brother, Killian also saw that they had the same smile. He never would have guessed they weren’t blood relatives.

“So Killian,” David said, and Killian once again bristled. Here it was: when he would become the butt of the joke. Why did he think it was a good idea to sit here? Who was he kidding? He couldn’t have breakfast with three cheerleaders and a football player. 

“Yeah?” Killian asked, unable to keep the defensiveness out of his voice.

“How’s it going so far in Storybrooke? It can’t be easy moving your junior year.”

“It’s . . . okay I guess.”

“Well, if you wanna hang out sometime, that’d be cool.”

Killian almost choked on his toast. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the guy. Was David being genuine? It seemed like he was. 

“I just got the new Madden game if you wanna come over and play it.”

Killian blinked, at a loss for words. He’d never played Madden in his life. He knew less about American football than . . . well less than anyone in this town, that was almost a guarantee. Still, he found himself nodding and mumbling something along the lines of “that would be great.”

“Awesome,” he exclaimed, fist bumping Killian who’d also never fist bumped anyone in his life. Especially not a high school quarterback. David threw his arm around Mary Margaret and tugged her close. “Well, everyone, I’m going to steal my girlfriend if that’s okay.”

“Yeah sure,” Ruby waved them off, “go make out.”

“Ruby!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. She and David both blushed crimson. 

Emma laughed as they all said goodbye. Once her friends were out of earshot, Emma said, “They’re totally going somewhere to make out.”

Ruby stretched and yawned. “Well, I’m still tired, and Netflix is calling my name. Wanna come binge watch  _ Stranger Things  _ with me?”

Emma shrugged and glanced over at Killian. “Not right now.”

“Okay, catch you later.”

Once Ruby was gone, Killian glanced nervously over at Emma. “Well, this is awkward now. Being on the same side of the booth.”

Thankfully, Emma just laughed. She shifted in the seat to face him, tilting her head to study him. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Killian blinked in surprise. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

He slid out of the booth, and Emma followed, grinning at him. Her eye rolls and scowls seemed like a distant memory. What had changed, he wasn’t sure, but he’d take it. 

Emma led Killian down Main Street, pointing out shops and people she knew. 

“That’s Dr. Hopper,” she said after waving hello to a man with curly red hair. “Doctor as in psychiatrist. He walks his dog, Pongo, every morning at seven, half past noon, and then again at eight pm. You can set your clock by him.”

“A dalmatian named Pongo? Seriously?”

“As a heart attack,” she replied with a playful grin. “And that’s Game of Thorns, the florist shop. Belle French’s dad owns it. She cheers with me. If you think I’m an unlikely cheerleader, you’ve gotta meet Belle. Highest GPA in our class and has read practically every book ever written.”

The girl in question came outside with an armload of flower arrangements for the sidewalk display. Emma led him across the street and introduced the two of them. Belle was extremely friendly, and before Killian knew it, the two of them were discussing their favorite books. Killian wasn’t sure how long he would have stayed if Belle’s father hadn’t called her back inside. 

“Thank God,” Emma groaned. “You two were about to bore me to death.”

“If you would have told me last year that I would have pleasant conversations with cheerleaders and a football player, I would have called you crazy.”

Emma cocked her head as she studied him. “Yeah, I noticed you sort of tensed up when my brother showed up.”

“Yeah, well, I um . . . ” Killian hesitated, scratching nervously behind his ear. He was trying to impress this girl, after all. 

Emma tapped her shoulder against his. “You don’t have to go into it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just say I didn’t have the best run-ins with jocks back in Boston.”

“Don’t tell me. Your stereotypical John Hughes situation?”

Killian laughed. “Yeah, if it were _The Breakfast Club_ , I’d be Anthony Michael Hall.”

“Before he was buff.”

“Full on nerd who gets roped into writing the paper for everyone.”

“Yeah, I never thought that was fair.”

They smiled at one another. They were nearing the docks now, and the breeze off the water blew Emma’s hair across her eyes. Killian’s fingers itched to push it back. 

“I guess I need to remember that Anthony Michael Hall went from nerd to heartthrob.”

“And Patrick Dempsey. From having to bribe a girl to go out with him to McDreamy.”

Killian arched a brow. “You really know your 80s movies.”

“The 80s are in. Totally rad.” Her teasing smile melted into a frown. “Seriously, though, this isn’t a John Hughes movie, Killian. My brother is the nicest guy you could meet. When he said you two should hang out, he meant it.”

Killian shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. “He did seem nice.”

Emma tugged on his arm. “Come on, this is one of my favorite spots.”

They were at the docks now, and Emma sat down on the edge of the pier, still tugging on his arm. Killian sat down next to her and let out a long, cleansing breath. 

“This is great. I’ve always loved the sea.”

“You’re brother too, right? I mean, Ruby said he’s in the navy.”

Killian narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun. “Aye, he is.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“It’s not Liam I’m pissed at. He deserved this opportunity. No nineteen year old should have to worry about his younger brother when making plans for his future.”

Emma leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. “So is he in the US Navy?”

“Of course.”

“You have a British accent,” Emma pointed out.

“Dad’s a Brit, Mum was an American. She passed four years ago.”

Emma frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

Killian sighed and looked down at the water. “Dad’s never been father of the year, but I don’t think Liam expected  _ this _ .”

“You mean your dad taking off?”

Killian turned to face Emma, sprawling out with one leg poking her in the knee and the other still dangling in the water. “Liam hit the roof when he found out. He had just finished boot camp when Dad decided London sounded more fun than actually being a parent for once.”

“Was he going to take you with him?”

“Aye, but I didn’t want to go. I’d lived my whole life here. I may have dual citizenship, but The States is home.”

Killian looked out over the water, his jaw clenching. Emma admired the brooding profile he made, his hair blowing across his forehead. She bit the inside of her cheek and mentally catalogued every reason why a relationship with this guy was a bad idea. She sat up and scooted closer to him, her thigh brushing against his leg. Killian shifted so they were side by side once again, legs dangling from the pier.

“I’m glad you had Granny,” she told him softly.

He looked at her then with a sad smile. “Aye. Adjusting to Storybrooke is a lot easier than adjusting to London would have been.”

Emma shook her head, and the sea breeze caused her hair to flutter across her face. She pushed it back and returned his smile. 

“What I meant was that I’m glad you’re here.”

Killian’s gaze dropped down to Emma’s hand resting beside his on the wet wood. He reached out and took it, squeezing gently. She stiffened. 

“Killian,” she said apologetically, pulling her fingers slowly away from him, “I . . . just can’t okay?”

“Can’t what?”

She bit her bottom lip, her eyes falling shut for a moment. “I had a relationship with an older guy a while back, and - well, it was bad.” 

When Emma met Killian’s eyes she winced at how it sounded. 

“God, Emma that’s awful, I -”

“I didn’t let it get that far,” Emma hurriedly clarified. “I mean, he was constantly wanting more from me, but I just wasn’t ready. I suppose it could have been worse.”

“You don’t have to tell me any of this, Emma,” Killian told her gently. 

“I know I don’t, but I really do want to be your friend. I’m not an idiot, I can feel this . . . spark between us.”

“Why Swan, I knew you cared,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows. 

Emma rolled her eyes and punched him lightly in the shoulder, relieved that his humor had lightened the mood. Then his blue eyes softened and studied her intensely. 

“Emma, whatever we become, it’s up to you. If all you can give right now is friendship, then I’m okay with that. And if I win your heart - and I really hope I do - even then, I only want what you’re ready to give.”

Emma blinked at the sudden tears that had welled up in her eyes. “When the time comes that you want more from me, I don’t know that I can give you that.”

Killian reached out slowly and finally did what he had longed to do for the last half hour - he tucked Emma’s hair behind her ear. 

“I mean it, Emma. Having you as a friend would be a gift and an honor.”

Emma smiled as his hand slipped from her cheek. “Friends then.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They said they would "just be friends," but . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Thank you to everyone following this story! I've been looking forward to this chapter from the beginning. One thing I love about Lieutenant Duckling is that you can speed things along with these two and it's still in character ;)  
> * Thanks again to the mods of the Captain Swan Movie Marathon and to my beta, hookedonapirate ❤

It was early October, and fall was at its peak. The trees around Storybrooke were decked in their most vibrant colors; there was a nip to the air, yet the sun shone brightly, and football was on everyone’s mind. The Storybrooke Knights were 6-2 and might possibly make the AA state playoffs. The cheerleaders, though excited for the football team, were more concerned with their competition routine. It wasn’t ready yet, and competition season was right around the corner. 

But right now, Emma was just enjoying the bright sunshine filtering through the red and orange leaves above her head and the grilled cheese sandwich in her hand. She was sitting with her back against the armrest of the bench beneath the oak tree and her feet were in Killian’s lap. 

“What is wrong with your legs?” he asked her, tickling her calf. 

“Hey!” Emma retorted, kicking out with one sneakered foot. “Nothing’s wrong with them!”

He laughed and splayed one hand across her ankle. His touch sent a shiver all the way up the base of her spine, but she stubbornly ignored the feeling. They had become such good friends over the last few weeks, that she really couldn’t afford to let a tingling spine mess it all up. 

“I mean there’s something  _ on  _ your legs.”

“They’re called tights, genius,” Emma muttered around a mouthful of grilled cheese. “You try wearing a mini skirt when the temperature reaches a max of 57 degrees.”

“Maybe I will,” he smirked with that infuriating eyebrow hitch that maybe, possibly, did something to her spine again. “It feels weird,” he continued, running a hand up and down her leg. Yep, definitely tingles up and down her spine. 

Emma bounced her leg, and he tickled her again. She finished off her sandwich and tossed the empty wrapper at his head. 

“They also look weird,” she said. 

“What looks weird?”

“The tights. They only come in three colors: nude, suntan, and mocha. I end up looking like I spray tanned my legs and not the rest of me. Same for Mary Margaret and Ariel.”

Killian removed his hand from her leg to eat a few of the chips from his lunch. “I thought tights were pink.”

“That’s ballet, dork.”

“Wow, my level of intelligence has really fallen in your eyes.”

“Only when it comes to tights.”

“That’s a relief because I’ve mastered every other subject.”

“Oh really?” Emma asked with an amused tilt of her head. “ _ All  _ other subjects?”

“Absolutely.”

“Quantum physics?”

“No problem.”

“Infectious diseases?”

“The CDC has me on stand-by.”

“Double full basket toss?”

Killian’s mouth hung open for a moment, then he smirked at her. “I take it that’s some cheerleading thing, so while I’m not an expert yet, I have an excellent teacher.”

Instead of that tingle up her spine, heat rose to her cheeks. Emma bit her lip and looked away, suddenly fascinated by her bag of chips. Killian’s hand fell to her leg again, and she almost dropped her Doritos. 

“You know, you don’t seem like the type - the cheerleading type, I mean.”

He kept his head down while he said it, and Emma could see his ears tint pink. She poked him in the ribs with her toe, and he finally looked at her with a tentative smile. 

“I know I’m not,” she told him. “I mean, part of me doesn’t like that there’s a  _ type _ at all, but I totally get what you’re saying. I’m surprised myself, to be honest.”

“So why did you do it?”

Emma sighed, her gaze drifting up to the leaves above her. She told him about her dream to be a gymnast, all of the hard work, and then how the state cut the gymnastics program. 

“Cheerleading was my last resort,” she finished up, crumpling the empty bag of chips in her hand. “It ended up being more than that. I found out it was more challenging, more exhilarating, and more  _ fun  _ than I thought it would be. And the team supports each other just like a gymnastics team does.”

“So no cattiness like in teen drama shows?”

“Ugh, no.” 

Emma displayed her disgust with a wrinkle of her nose that Killian found incredibly adorable. Then he tilted his head and studied her carefully.

“What’s your favorite thing about cheerleading?”

“The stunts,” Emma answered without hesitation. “That’s when it feels most like gymnastics. That feeling when you’re literally high in the air, and the way your stomach swoops when you go weightless - there’s just nothing quite like it.”

The dreamy grin on Emma’s face faltered, and she suddenly looked down at her lap. 

“But?” Killian prompted. 

“I really do like cheering - and it’s a lot of the same. The stunts are cool, like I said, I just . . . I miss the rest of it. The beam, the bars, the vault . . .” 

“What do you miss the most?”

“The beam, definitely.”

“Isn’t that the most difficult?”

She arched a brow at him. “How do you know that?”

“A guess, honestly. I mean, it sort of looks like walking a tightrope to me.”

“Not quite that difficult, but close. It’s pretty narrow. But I think the challenge is what I love. In some ways, it’s the most dangerous apparatus.”

“Ah,” Killian said, waggling his eyebrows teasingly, “so you’re an adrenaline junkie.”

Emma shook her head and laughed. “I wouldn’t argue with that.”

On game days, Emma’s hair had to match her teammates, pulled back with a bright red ribbon tied in a bow. She’d told him she never bothered to dry and straighten her hair on game days, so her golden locks curled and bounced against her shoulders. When she shook her head, her hair brushed her cheeks and always made his fingers itch to touch it, wondering if it was as soft as he imagined. 

“I always feel like I’ve conquered something after a beam routine,” she told him. 

“The hard is what makes it great?”

“Did you just quote _A_ _League of Their Own_?”

“I thought that was  _ There’s no crying in baseball _ .”

“That too.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and Emma swung her feet off Killian’s lap and stood up, brushing the crumbs off her skirt. He gathered up their trash and tossed it into the nearest bin. Emma turned to him as she shouldered her backpack. 

“You coming to the game tonight?”

“Wouldn’t miss it!”

“Sure you wouldn’t,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes. “What book are you bringing this time?”

Killian chuckled and scratched behind his ear. “It’s a lighter read this time -  _ Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows _ .”

“I  _ knew _ it!” 

“Well, don’t tell anyone,” he said, leaning close to speak softly into her ear, “but I only go to watch the cheerleaders. Rumor has it they might try a double full basket toss.”

Emma shoved him in the shoulder with another roll of her eyes as they headed inside. He thought he was  _ so  _ charming. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Storybrooke Knights brought home another win making their record 7-2 and an even higher chance of making the playoffs in their division. As for the cheerleaders, they didn’t do a double full basket toss (they never did stunts that complicated on the sidelines - they were daring - not stupid). Emma did, however, salute Killian after her pike basket toss which he rewarded with a standing ovation. The dork. No one else was standing up, much less applauding. She rolled her eyes again. 

Emma didn’t have a sleepover with Ruby, Mary Margaret, or any of the other girls that night. She had a five page paper to write for her history class that was due on Monday, so she couldn’t afford to sleep in until noon on Saturday. She even set her alarm for nine am. 

She was fooling herself. 

What she actually did was hit the snooze button four times, reset the alarm for ten thirty instead, then finally shuffled downstairs at five minutes past eleven. 

It was still better than noon. 

Her hair was a wild mess after being pulled back all day on Friday then cheering all evening. Her breath reeked so bad she could smell it, and she was wearing last year’s homecoming t-shirt which had a huge hole under one armpit where Ruby had saved her from face-planting during a stunt gone wrong. They were always begging Ruby to trim her damn nails. The girl was like a wild beast with those things. 

So needless to say, she was far from cute, and while Killian Jones may have been “just a friend,” she still didn’t like the idea of hot guys seeing her with bed head, morning breath, and a raggedy old t-shirt (it also had a huge hot chocolate stain right over her left boob). Which was why Emma screamed and dropped the carton of milk when she saw Killian in the living room. 

“Morning, Swan,” he smoothly greeted her. 

She stood there for a minute, gaping at him and her brother while a puddle of milk formed at her feet. They were sitting on the couch with XBox controllers in their hands. David’s eyes were wide, which only confirmed what she pretty much already knew: she looked like shit. 

“Um, Killian,” she said, hurriedly picking up the milk and grabbing a kitchen towel to mop up the spill, “I didn’t know you were here.” 

_ Obviously. _

“It’s after eleven, Emma,” David pointed out. Like that was supposed to alert her to the fact that a cute boy was sitting in her living room. 

He was smiling at her, his hair doing that “artfully disheveled” thing, his arms resting on his knees, causing his biceps to fill out his t-shirt. His Pearl Jam t-shirt that had no holes or stains whatsoever. His stupid smile with white teeth and most likely minty fresh breath. 

Emma wanted the milk on the floor to widen into a swirling vortex that would swallow her whole. 

She was just about to grab the Frosted Flakes and flee to her room when she noticed the game they had paused. Call her a shallow teenager, but she latched onto the opportunity to turn the tables. 

“Are you two playing . . . a  _ Lego game _ ?”

Both teenage boys on her couch blushed crimson. Killian ducked his head and scratched behind his ear, a sign she already knew meant he was embarrassed. David blinked rapidly and opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Emma smirked.  _ Then  _ she grabbed the Frosted Flakes.

“It’s  _ Lego Star Wars _ !” Killian blurted out at the same moment David said, “It takes skill!”

“Mhm,” Emma said, “don’t let me stop you  _ boys  _ from playing your Lego game.”

She kept her head high until she reached her room at the top of the loft stairs, then she collapsed onto her bed, hugging the box of Frosted Flakes to her chest. She groaned and reached for a pillow to cover her face, but her breath smelled too bad, so she flung it across the room instead. 

Maybe she didn’t look as bad as she thought she did. She sat up to examine herself in the mirror. Nope - it was actually  _ worse _ . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

David started the game up again, and Killian tried to concentrate, hoping the bulge in his jeans wasn’t too obvious. Bloody hell, Emma’s legs went on for days. He assumed she had been wearing shorts beneath that t-shirt, but it sure hadn’t looked like it, and that hole in her shirt that gave a peak at the curve of her breast . . . was it hot in here? Then there was her hair, wild in exactly the way he imagined it would be if she were on her back beneath him while he - 

No, his mind could not go there while her brother was sitting right next to him. David was actually becoming a good friend, and that was something he couldn’t afford to mess up. 

Emma didn’t reappear until an hour later when Killian was about to head out the door. She had somewhat tamed her hair into a messy bun atop her head and slipped into a pair of jeans and a cream sweater that slid off one shoulder. Was she trying intentionally to kill him?

“You’re leaving?” she asked, biting her lip and toying with the bottom of her sweater. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a paper to write, unfortunately.”

“For Baxter’s class?”

“Aye.”

“Me too! I was just about to head for the library.”

Killian arched a brow. “I was going to work from home, but if you’d like company -”

Emma’s eyes lit for a moment, but then she frowned. “I wish I could, but I know myself. I wouldn’t get any work done if you were there.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and he couldn’t help the smirk that followed. “My good looks are that distracting?”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile graced her face nonetheless. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Jones.”

“Seriously, though, I won’t distract you. Plus, I’m pretty good with words.”

“Yeah, I know, and I appreciate the offer, but I have to buckle down. The paper is due on Monday, and Sundays are bust through days.”

“Sundays are what?”

Emma sighed as she grabbed her backpack from its hook by the door. “You know those huge signs the football players run through? We have to make those at some point without taking away from our own practice time.”

Killian frowned. “I didn’t realize you had to make those.”

“The posters and banners all over the school too. Who else did you think made those? The football fairies?”

He laughed at her silly joke, appreciating the way her cheeks appled when she grinned. They walked downstairs together and chatted all the way to the library, which was a block away from the diner. They said goodbye there, and Killian stood like a besotted fool on the sidewalk until the library door closed behind her. Being just friends with Emma Swan was proving to be a bigger challenge than he had anticipated. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So who are we playing?”

The supplies for the bust through were spread out on the floor in the atrium of Storybrooke High. The skylights in the arched ceiling made it the best place on campus to work. Earlier in the year, they’d done it outside, but now it was too windy. The wet paint would be covered in bits of leaves within minutes. 

“The Wildcats,” Coach Ava told them, “the Birchwood Wildcats.”

“Okay,” Mary Margaret mused, tapping her lips with a dry paint brush, “what do you think?  _ Whip the Wildcats _ ?”

Everyone groaned.

“Okay, okay,” Mary Margaret said defensively, “anyone have any better ideas?”

“Bury Birchwood?” Ariel asked hesitantly.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” muttered Emma, “can’t we just say  _ beat the wildcats _ ?”

“I know!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, punching the air with her paintbrush. “We’ll just say  _ beat the wildcats _ , but the picture underneath can be a knight chasing a cat -”

“With his sword ready!” added Tiana.

“Ooh, and the Knight can be saying,  _ here kitty, kitty! _ ” put in Jasmine. “Get it?”

“They get way too into this,” Ruby whispered to Emma, causing her to giggle. 

Mary Margaret’s brow furrowed. “That’ll be a challenge to draw.”

“I’m pretty good at drawing,” a cocky voice called from the doorway. The cheerleaders all turned to see Killian Jones striding toward them with two other boys at his side. 

“Killian,” Emma said, trying to keep the eagerness out of her voice and failing spectacularly. 

“Good afternoon, love,” he greeted her, then turned to his buddies. “This is Will Scarlet and Eric Finn. I was telling them of the very sexist traditions you ladies still toil under, and they agreed to come with me to help.”

“Okay, Mr. Thesaurus,” Emma teased, punching him playfully in the shoulder, “you can quit showing off.”

“This is great!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. “Gluing the banner paper on the posts and tying the ropes are always the hardest part.”

Will glanced over to where Belle French was kneeling beside the pvc pipes. “Uh, that sounds like something I can handle.”

Without waiting for further instructions, he jogged over to the brunette. Belle smiled up at him, and he took the industrial sized jug of glue she handed him. Across from them Ariel was struggling with the ropes.

“My dad’s got a fishing boat,” Eric said, his gaze on the redhead, “so, um, I’m good with ropes.” He winced at his choice of words and turned bright red. 

“I’m sure you are,” Mary Margaret said in a friendly tone, shoving him gently towards Ariel. 

Emma swung to face Killian, her ponytail hitting her shoulder blade. He reached out and twirled the end of it around his finger. Yes, it was just as soft as he’d expected. She tipped her head and arched both brows. 

“You just came to help out of the goodness of your heart?” She gestured toward Will and Eric.

He smiled back at her sheepishly and scratched behind his ear. “And perhaps to help out some friends with crushes on certain cheerleaders.”

“I see,” Emma replied, crossing her arms, but she wasn’t angry. 

“I don’t care why you’re all here,” Coach Ava spoke over Emma’s shoulder, “I’m just grateful. We’ve never had anyone in the school help us over the years. Thank you boys so much.”

“It’s our pleasure, Coach Blanchard.”

“It’s Coach Ava, actually, and did you say you can draw?”

Emma laughed as her coach dragged Killian over to his oversized canvas. She was impressed with how carefully he listened and how patiently he worked his pencil over the banner paper. Will and Eric were both hard workers too, and on their best behavior. Belle blushed and smiled as she and Will carefully rolled the glued paper over the pipes, and Ariel laughed flirtatiously at Eric as he taught her how to tie a stronger knot. Emma didn’t know either boy very well, but they seemed pretty nice. Will was known for being a bit of a trouble maker, but only for interrupting class with his goofy jokes. Eric was pretty serious about sailing and spent all his weekends on the water. She supposed her friends couldn’t do much worse. And if it got them help with bust throughs during football season, all the better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emma shivered against the cooler breeze as Killian walked her home after making all the bust throughs and posters. Killian’s art work had been pretty impressive and had saved them precious time. It was kind of a shame it would be destroyed in 2.3 seconds on Friday night.

They reached the door of the Nolan’s apartment building, and Emma hesitated as she turned to face Killian. She really didn’t want to say goodbye and head up to the loft, but she also didn’t want to take him upstairs and have to share him with David. So she stood there, shuffling her feet and grinning like an idiot. 

“Um, thanks for helping with everything. And bringing Will and Eric.”

Killian gave her his best lopsided, flirtatious grin. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’d say gratitude is in order.”

Emma’s smile broadened. “That’s what the thank you was for.”

Killian sauntered closer, tipping his head and giving her an adorable, puppy dog look. “Is that all my artistic talents are worth to you?” As if his innuendo wasn’t clear enough, he pouted at her as he tapped his lips.

Emma scoffed, even as her cheeks heated. “Please, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

_ Wait, what?  _ This was drifting dangerously into flirting territory.  _ Abort, Emma, abort! _

“Perhaps  _ you’re  _ the one who couldn’t handle it.” 

He leaned in close, those damn eyebrows of his taking on a life of their own, and then he had the audacity to pop the  _ t,  _ and Emma was too far gone. She grabbed the front of his hoodie and yanked him closer. Her lips crashed into his, and he let out a grunt of surprise. He caught on quickly, however, tilting his head and burying his fingers into her hair as his tongue swiped across her lips. She opened for him, and the kiss became more aggressive as their tongues tangled. Killian started to pull back, but Emma let go of his hoodie with one hand so she could grasp the back of his neck and keep him where she wanted him. Killian reciprocated on round two, kissing her deeply. When Emma finally pulled back, he chased her lips, but she stopped him by grabbing his shirt again, stumbling backwards slightly. God, he was a good kisser. So good, she seriously had lost her equilibrium. 

“That was -” he breathed out unsteadily.

He was just as wrecked as she was.  _ Good. _

“A one time thing,” Emma rasped, shoving him back a little. She turned and fled up the stairs wondering what the hell she had just done. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_You free tonight?_ **

**_I told you - a one time thing._ **

**_I know that, love, and it’s okay. I’m not asking you on a date. I just wanted to surprise you with something._ **

**_Surprises sound like a dating thing._ **

**_Friends can’t surprise friends? And all these years I wondered why people kept getting the wrong idea about me . . ._ **

**_Ha ha. You’re hilarious._ **

**_Meet me at the Y? Back door?_ **

**_It’s almost midnight!_ **

**_Exactly . . ._ **

“What are you doing?” Emma asked fifteen minutes later as she jogged around the back of the Y and found Killian kneeling in front of the door and fiddling with a padlocked chain looped through the door handles. 

“Can you aim my cell phone flashlight?” he asked her, gesturing to his phone that rested on the ground.

Emma did as he asked. It started to drizzle, and Emma shielded his phone with her cupped hand. “Are you picking the lock?” she hissed.

He narrowed his eyes as he twisted a paperclip into the keyhole. “It’s all about the tumblers.”

“Should I be concerned that breaking and entering is a talent of yours?”

Killian chuckled, then stuck his tongue out a little as he concentrated. It made Emma think of their kiss from earlier, and she shivered.

“Sorry, Swan. I know you’re wet and cold,” he apologized, totally misreading her.

“Yeah, and I still think this is a horrible idea.”

“It’s a fantastic idea.”

“It’s illegal.”

“Yeah, well, maybe sports shouldn’t just be for the rich. Then we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?” There was a click, and Killian cheered. “Ah-ha! See! Nothing to it!”

He stood and slipped the chain from the doors. Then he opened them and gestured gallantly to Emma. She shook her head at his dramatic posturing, yet she couldn’t keep the smile from her face. 

She expected the gym to be pitch black, but a row of emergency lights were shining. The soft glow gave the place an almost ethereal look. She knew it had to be either a trick of the light or her imagination, but each apparatus seemed to have a spotlight shining on it. Emma bit her lip as she took it all in. 

“I’ve missed this place,” she finally admitted with a sigh. 

Emma whispered as if this were a sacred space or a tomb under a magic curse. As if it would all disappear right before her eyes. Killian leaned close, his own whisper hot against her ear. 

“Well, what do you want to do first?”

The answer was drawing her like the enchanted spinning wheel drew Sleeping Beauty. When she was close enough, she reached out her hand and placed it on the balance beam. The slightly rough surface felt just as familiar as it ever had. Emma placed her other hand beside the first and turned to Killian with a tentative smile. His grin was wide, dimpling his cheeks. 

“Let’s see it, Simone Biles.”

“You know who that is?’

Killian put a hand to his chest and gasped in mock offense. “You wound me, Swan.”

Emma cocked her head. “You googled famous gymnasts, didn’t you?”

Killian deflated and sheepishly scratched behind his ear. “That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“No. Cute. It’s cute that you would research something I love.”

Killian cleared his throat. “Well, I’m eager to see your talent.”

Emma took a deep breath and pushed through her arms to mount the beam in a handstand, then she lowered into a split. Killian whistled. Emma rolled her eyes as she twisted around to straddle the beam. 

“That’s a pretty basic mount, actually.”

“I sure as hell couldn’t do it.”

Emma didn’t respond, instead concentrating on a back rollover to a standing position. She did a few jumps and pirouettes to get a feel of it again. She was a little rusty and wobbled a bit, but she loved the feel of the beam beneath her and the way her toes curled to grip the edges.

“How wide is that thing again?” Killian asked. 

“4 inches for us Americans, ten centimeters for you Brits. Why? Impressed?”

“Extremely.”

“Then watch this.”

Emma backed up to the very edge of the beam, knocking it with her foot and lifting both arms. Then she extended her arms in front of her, took a deep breath, and did a roundoff back-handspring down the length of the beam. When her feet hit the opposite end, she dismounted with a back tuck. That sense of weightlessness, though brief, thrilled her as it always did. She didn’t stick the landing. She stumbled a bit, but at least she didn’t fall on her butt. She whirled toward Killian.

He was in awe of her - the way she’d conquered that ten centimeter wide beam then sailed through the air. Her hair was coming out of her ponytail in wild wisps about her face, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing hard. Best of all, her eyes were sparkling and her smile was bright.

Propping her hands on her hips, she asked him saucily, “So, what did you think of that?”

“Amazing, Swan. Bloody brilliant, and . . . “ he wet his lips, “I am  _ so  _ turned on right now.”

He was honestly worried she would smack him or at the very least flash those green eyes at him in anger and stomp off. Instead she blushed deeply, rolled her eyes, then shoved him playfully.

“Come on, there’s still the vault and the bars.”

Killian watched Emma in amazement. She was completely in her element. She swung around the bars, balanced in a handstand, then jumped and twisted to dismount. She flew down the runway to the vault and catapulted off it, twisting and flipping in the air. She kept swearing she was rusty or that the stuff she was doing wasn’t really that difficult, but Killian disagreed. 

“Come on,” Emma told him, breathless and smiling broadly, “there’s one more thing I want to do.”

He let her drag him across the floor to the other side of the gym. There was another runway like the one that led to the vault, only this one was a long trampoline that led to a giant pit full of huge foam blocks. Emma bounced on the trampoline, still holding his hand, and Killian bounced with her, feeling all sorts of awkward and foolish. He didn’t have her grace with this sort of thing. 

They ended up at the end of the trampoline runway, and Emma tilted her head saucily at Killian. “Ready for a lesson?”

Killian’s eyes widened. “Um, no, Swan, no way! This isn’t my sort of thing.”

“Come on. Please?”

She wasn’t pouting, she wasn’t batting her eyelashes. She was simply smiling at him with an earnest look in her green eyes. That was enough. 

“Okay,” he sighed.

Emma beamed and gave a little bounce. “I’ll teach you how to do a back tuck.”

“A what?”

“A backflip. Watch.”

She motioned for him to step off the trampoline, then she turned around so her back was to the pit, her feet on the edge of the runway. She bent her legs, jumped up, and flipped backwards, tucking her knees into her body. She landed in the pit feet first. 

Killian raised his eyebrows incredulously. “You expect me to do that?”

“Of course,” she laughed as she scrambled out of the pit. 

She had him stand at the edge of the trampoline just like she had. Standing next to him, she demonstrated how to swing his arms. She pressed her palm to his lower back and then to the backs of his knees to demonstrate how his body should be positioned. Then she flipped backwards once again into the pit like it was the simplest thing in the world. Killian wasn’t so sure. He hesitated, his knees bent and his hands out in front of him. He looked ridiculous. 

“Come on, Jones!” Emma laughed. “You can do it!”

Killian pressed his eyes shut. “Here goes,” he muttered. 

He jumped up, flung himself backwards . . . and face planted into the foam pit. He groaned as he rolled onto his back, and Emma came crawling towards him, laughing hysterically. 

“Are . . . are you . . . okay?” she gasped out between fits of laughter. 

“I’m glad you’re so concerned for my safety. “

“No really! Are you hurt?”

Killian grimaced and opened one eye to look at her. “Only my pride.”

“It really wasn’t so bad. You just . . . didn’t exactly stick the landing.”

“Ya think?” 

He laughed then struggled to sit up, but it wasn’t easy in the foam. His legs sank, and he struggled to push foam blocks aside with his arms to reach the side of the pit. Emma struggled beside him, then reached out to try and help him. Instead, they just kept falling, struggling more and more against the pit of foam. Killian shifted and tried to yank Emma upward, but instead they got tangled up in one another. The more they struggled, the more hysterically they laughed, and the harder it was to move. Killian found Emma flung across his chest, and he looked into her eyes, brushing her hair back from her face. Suddenly, they both sobered. 

“Killian . . . I need to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I . . . “ she hesitated, a vulnerable expression on her face he had yet to see. He held his breath, hoping against hope she would express her feelings for him. “I wanted to thank you.”

He forced his grin not to falter, for his voice not to waver. “For what?” 

“For all of  _ this  _ . . . and . . . googling famous gymnasts. For me.” 

Silence fell between them, thick and heavy with feelings. Killian reached up and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Her skin was so soft, he couldn’t pull away. His thumb drifted lower to graze the dimple in her chin. Emma’s breath hitched, and he took that as encouragement. He slid his hand around to the back of her head, but before he pulled her closer, he searched her eyes for any signs of hesitation. He saw none. Instead, Emma drew closer, needing no encouragement from him, and brushed her nose against his. It was all the encouragement he needed. He claimed her lips with his, moving gently and tenderly. Emma tilted her head, her lips parting for him, and he explored her mouth with his tongue, exulting in the taste of her. Their first kiss had taken him so off guard, he hadn’t fully experienced it. Now, he catalogued every sound she made, the way her fingers danced along his jaw, and the soft feel of her lips. 

They parted, and Emma smiled down at him before pressing her lips to his once more. The second kiss led to a third kiss, then a fourth, until Killian realized how much farther he had sunk into the foam pit. 

“Um . . . don’t sweaty gymnasts jump into this stuff?”

Emma laughed and pressed her face to his collar bone. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ugh, how often do they clean it?” “

Emma was still laughing against his skin, her hands fisted in his hoodie. “Oh,” she

managed to gasp out, “I'm sure they give it a squirt of Lysol every now and then.” 

“That’s it, I’m outta here,” Killian set Emma gently aside, and began struggling once again to get out. 

Emma was zero help. She was too busy laughing her head off. 


End file.
